e within our hearts that we turned and left the
window.

THE FARRIER LASS O' PIPING PEBWORTH.

HUMFREY LEMON, meeting Bered Turnip, before the "Red Deer," doth speak
as follows:

* * * * *

Whom have we here? Well, well, by my troth! 'tis none other than Bered
Turnip, the farrier, as I do live! Come for an alms-drink, comrade.
Would I had as many gold-pieces as we have burnt alnights i' this very
tavern! And is it thus we meet after all these years? It doth seem but
yesterday that we supped under this very roof as juvenals. Dost thou
mind thee o' the night that we gave old Gammer Lick-the-Dish a bath in
his own sack, for that he served us in a foul jerkin? By'r lay'kin,
those were days! Well, well, to meet thee thus! Though, believe it or
not, as thou wilt, I had such a pricking i' my thumbs but an hour gone
that I was of a mind to roar you like any babe with a pin in his
swaddling-bands. Thou wast my beau-peer i' those times; and we are kin
by profession, moreover. How be Mistress Turnip and thy eight lads? Ha!
ha! Dost remember how old Anthony Butter--him who was gardener at
Amhurste Castle, ye mind--dost thou remember in what spite he held thee
because o' those eight little salads o' thine? A always said a married
with an eye to a's posterity; and o' my word a's been cockeyed e'er
since, for's posterity has e'er kept him on the lookout: never chick or
child hath Mistress Butter given him.

Quoth he to me one day, a-setting of 's chin in 's thumb and forefinger
(thou mind'st his solemn ways)--quoth he to me, "Lemon," quoth he,
"would I knew why the Lord doth seem to look with a more bounteous favor
on such as are farriers, than on such as be followers of other trades;
for methinks, what with thee, and Turnip, and Job Long-pate, who bides
in Dancing Marston, England will owe the chief o' her future population
to blacksmiths." I quoth, to humor him, quoth I, "Belike, Master
Butter," quoth I, "the Almighty hath gotten wisdom by experience, and
doth purpose to put no further trust in gardeners." Whereat he waxed so
wrathful, that for the sake o' my breeches I took to my heels. But,
Lord! it doth seem as though a had a spite against th' very children o'
others. Thou mindest my Keren? By'r lay'kin, 'twill not stick i' my old
pate how that thou hast not been in these parts since my Keren could 'a'
walked under a blackberry-bramble without so much as tousling her
tresses. Well, a g